


GeraltHasTwoHands Tumblr Fic Archive

by Semoka



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Courting Rituals, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Heavy Angst, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semoka/pseuds/Semoka
Summary: A few people requested I crosspost my tumblr ficlets here, so here I am! All warnings for individual fics are located in the notes so as to not overload the tags.1: Find Each Other (Geraskefer Reincarnation AU)2:I'm A What? (Jaskier Has Magic AU)3: Courting Instincts (Geraskier)4: Her Sweet Kiss (Jaskier/Yennefer)5: Guard Dogs (Geraskefer)6: The Sweetest of Berries (Geraskier)7: Do It Yourself (Dark!Jaskier Geraskier)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Renfri | Shrike, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 34
Kudos: 556





	1. Find Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Temporary Major Character Death

Jaskier dies too soon, as all men do, and his family mourns.

Geralt screams into Yennefer’s shoulder until his voice grows hoarse. She runs her fingers through his hair and cries silently. They only stop crying when Cirilla returns home, and quiet her sobs with gentle touches and soft words. They know it will never be the same, but there’s nothing to be done.

Jaskier dies, his family mourns, and time moves forward.

Cirilla grows stronger every day, both as a mage and a huntress. She turns from a young woman to a force to be reckoned with in front of their eyes.

Geralt stays home now, unless the contract is within a days ride. He never saw himself as a house husband, but even witchers settle down. Yennefer runs a shop out of their living room. Potions and favors. People travel from far and wide to see her. Their pockets are never empty.

It's comfortable, yet there’s a hole in the middle of their bed every night.

It’s well after the shop as closed when a knock comes out at the door. Geralt is busy stripping a rabbit of its skin for dinner and Yennefer is bathing. The knock grows more and more insistent.

“It’s your child, you brutes!” Ciri calls out. Geralt lets out a laugh before getting up.

“The child I know would have her key on her after being told several times.” He teases, taking his time to get across the room.

“Yeah, that’s on me, darling.” An unmistakable voice says.

Geralt freezes. Upstairs, water sloshes and he knows Yennefer heard it too.

Without waiting for her, he runs and throws open the door. Standing next to Ciri, younger and different but completely the same, is Jaskier.

“How…?” Geralt trails off. He hears a choked sob from behind him and gets shoved to the side as Yennefer rushes to embrace their bard.

“He found me. Knew my favorite color. Knew where I killed my first monster. Knew where we lived.” Ciri explains because Jaskier was too busy kissing Yennefer senseless.

Geralt looks over their bard. His hair was blonde now. He had a thin scar just below his hairline and freckles that weren’t there before. He was taller too. The same height as Geralt, even. Yet his smile as he pulled away from Yennefer was the same. The blue of his eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners looked identically. He still smelled like dandelions and strawberries.

His lips tasted the same as the last time he’d kissed him goodbye.

“People linked by destiny will always find each other.” The bard whispers that night, comfortable in the hole that had been left for him.

“To a second chance.” Yennefer agrees, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“To a new lifetime.” Geralt tightens his hold on him.

“To old flames reignited.” Jaskier finishes, closing his eyes to sleep. His loves follow him soon after.

Jaskier was home.


	2. I'm A What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier Has Magic AU
> 
> WARNINGS: Graphic Depiction of Violence

They were in a bad spot. 

“Fuck, Geralt!” Jaskier cried out, watching Geralt soar through the air. The sorcerer, lost in his chaos, laughs. 

“What’s wrong, Witcher?!” He screams, taunting. “Too tired?!” That’s when Jaskier realizes.

Geralt’s not getting up. 

“Geralt! Geralt, you bastard, get up! Get up or you’ll be killed!” The bard begs. He’s trapped against a tree, wrapped in vines with thorns digging tighter every time he squirmed. 

“Do you not hear your little lark cry, Witcher?” The sorcerer taunts again as he walks closer. Geralt still doesn’t move from where he was slammed into the ground. Merely ten feet away from him yet Jaskier can do nothing but scream.

“Geralt, please.” He pleads, quieter. “Geralt, it can’t end like this. You can’t let us end like this.” He hangs his head, struggling harder than ever against the vines. His clothes are wet with blood from where thorns have pierced his skin but all he can think is ‘ _I have to do something.’_

The sorcerer laughs and laughs and laughs as if he hears Jaskier’s thoughts. Vines shoot up from the ground and wrap around the sorcerer’s torso and legs, hoisting him into the air. He grins, feral, as he towers over them both. 

A single vine, thicker and sharper than all the others, begins to rise out of the ground. The vine twists and bends to aim at the ground, pointed straight at Geralt’s still body.

Time seems to slow down. Jaskier rips an arm out of his bindings, shredding his skin in the process and breaking the vines. His throat aches as he cries out in agony at what is to come. Without reason, he throws a hand out towards the sorcerer, wishing with all his might that he could do something to stop this.

There’s a disgusting squelch sound as the sorcerer’s very body is crushed by the vines he created. Every vine had disappeared into dust with only the glop of red and guts on the ground giving any evidence there was a sorcerer at all. 

The bard breathing heavily is the only sound in the forest for several minutes. His entire body is shaking and he can’t stop staring at the vile pile of shredded organs and bone fragments and blood. In the back of his head, he knows he did that. His mind can’t process it. 

He’s only broken out of his trance by Geralt, finally awake on his feet once more.

“Jaskier.” The witcher’s voice is uncharacteristically gentle.

“Geralt,” He pauses like he can’t find the words. “What did I just do?” 

“That, Jaskier,” Geralt starts as he helps the bard to his feet. “Was magic.”

Jaskier nods. “Huh…didn't know I could do that.” He says. Then promptly faints into Geralt’s waiting arms.


	3. Courting Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not like they had sex-ed at Kaer Mohren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: None :D

Geralt knows somewhere inside of him that he’s fond of Jaskier. They’re friends, of course he’s fond of him. He doesn’t exactly understand why he feels the need to smell him and make sure he smells happy and content. Being the emotionally stunted idiot that he is though, he ignores everything.

Jaskier, though. Jaskier is observant. 

Jaskier notices Geralt sitting way to close to him in taverns. He hears the deep inhales when he stands close enough and the soft sigh Geralt lets out afterward. 

Usually, Geralt was so careful with his money. Lately, though, he had taken to buying Jaskier small presents. Rings, earrings, necklaces, hats. Jaskier just manages to stop the Witcher from buying him a pair of shoes for 30 gold and has to deal with nothing but grumbles towards him for days. 

It comes to a head when Geralt gets sloppy in battle. Don’t get Jaskier wrong, it’s very attractive when the man goes absolutely feral against the beast of the week. This is different, though. This was showboating in it’s finest form. Carefully crafted dances targeted to impress Jaskier. The thing that worried the bard was that Geralt had not even attempted to talk to the clearly sentient beast. He had charged straight into an attack without being attacked first. It wasn’t _like_ him. Jaskier knew Geralt’s moral compass better than that. 

After they collect their coin, Jaskier drags Geralt to Yennefer. 

“Geralt’s been cursed!” He loudly announces as he bursts through the door. She had taken up residence in yet another mayor’s house. At least some people don’t change.

“What are you talking about, bard?” Yennefer asks, tying the robe around her waist. Geralt rolls his eyes.

“He’s insisting I’m acting strange.” He deadpans. Jaskier jabs a finger into his chest.

“That’s because you are!” He hisses back before turning to Yennefer again. “You have to fix him.” 

The mage lounges back onto the chaise she’d been sitting on. She appraises them both for a moment. When her gaze lingers on Jaskier for too long, she sees Geralt tense. Practically feels the glare that he’s sending her way. 

“Alright, bard, tell me everything.” She commands. So Jaskier does.

Yen can’t help the laugh that escapes her. 

“Told you.” Geralt grunts, turning to leave the room. 

“Oh, don’t go, something _is_ actually wrong with you.” Yennefer elaborates after the giggle subsides. Jaskier makes a frantic gesture as if to say ‘see?! Told you!’ “Did no one ever explain courting instincts to you, witcher?” 

“Courting _Instincts_?” 

“ _Courting_ instincts?” 

Geralt and Jaskier lock eyes. There’s silence, then Jaskier breaks out into a stupid grin.

“You _like_ me!”

“No.”

“You _like-like_ me!” 

“Are you a teenage girl?” 

“I can’t believe this! _The_ Geralt of Rivia has a crush on me!” 

“I don’t have a fucking crush on you!” 

“Then why are you blushing?” Yen interrupts, bored. “I like my men fighting over me, not over each other, so if you’ll please now vacate the premises and go consummate the new relationship somewhere else?” 

Geralt rolls his eyes and turns to leave once more. Jaskier is quick on his heels to follow him.

“Oh, and Jaskier?” Yen calls. The bard pauses and looks back. She smirks. “He likes it when you pull his hair.” 

_**“Yennefer!”** _


	4. Her Sweet Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer hears Jaskier singing on her way down the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: None :)

The song ends, and Jaskier realizes how tense he had gotten throughout. He inhales deeply and lets his shoulders fall.

“That’s about me, isn’t it,” Yennefer asks, suddenly in front of him when he could have sworn she was asleep in her tent. There are tears in her eyes. It's a hollow vindication.

“Yes.” He says. Why hide it?

She sits down heavily next to him. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“For loving him?”

“For him not loving you.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence. “Oh. Right.” Jaskier nods, then forces a smile. “No sense in that. Not your fault you’re irresistible to him.” He stares out over the mountain. “Or anyone, really.”

“Anyone?” Yennefer questions. She’s looking at him now, he can feel it.

“You don’t want me, witch.” There’s no bite in his words.

She turns his head to face her with a finger under his chin. They lock eyes. “Nor do you, me.” She agrees.

When they kiss, it’s slow and bitter. Mutual heartbreak pours off their tongues as they pull each other closer, both wishing another was in their place.

When they part, Yen uses a hand on the back of Jaskier’s head to keep them pressed together. “Share my bed tonight, bard.” She requests. It's strange to ask and not command. “Let’s forget about him, together.”

Jaskier nods for fear his voice would break. Hand in hand, they move from under the moonlight into the tent.

Hours later, on the edge of the clearing, a figure steps from the shadows. White hair frames the shadow of a man, hesitating. Golden eyes peek through the flap then widen in surprise. As quick as he appeared, he’s gone.

Jaskier and Yennefer, both fully clothed, sleep soundly on.


	5. Guard Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bandits attack the camp. Luckily, Jaskier has two very good guard dogs.  
> aka you know that scene in venom? yeah - that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: None :)

Jaskier wakes up with a sword at his throat and thinks to himself _Hm, that’s new._

“If you want to live, don’t say a word.” The man with the sword hisses out. Jaskier nods frantically, putting his hands up next to his head as he’s dragged to stand. _Shit, shit, shit._

He risks a look over to the other side of their camp. Geralt wasn’t there. _Fuck, the girls!_ He cranes his neck to see Ciri and Yen’s tent still tied completely shut. _I can work with that._

There are four men in total. Two on the edge of the clearing standing guard, the man with the sword, and one now tying his wrists together behind his back. It occurs to Jaskier that this is a kidnapping, not a robbery. There’s only one reason in the entire world someone would kidnap him - to get to Geralt. The logical conclusion is they need him alive. 

He starts talking.

“You know, if you’re kidnapping me to get to the witcher, I have to say that your plan is going to fail horrendo-ack!” Jaskier gets cut off by a swift punch to the gut and doubles over coughing. Sword man drags him back up by the hair and glares.

“Shut. Up.” He growls out. The one tying his wrists finishes and circles to stand in front of him as well.

“Unfortunately for you,” He wheezes out. “I get told that a lot. Hasn’t worked out for anyone yet.” In the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of white hair and silver silently take out the two on the edge of the clearing. 

A noise comes from the tent. Nothing more than a small snuffle. Sword Man gestures for Rope Man to investigate. In a panic, Jaskier scrambles to get his feet under him.

“Gentlemen, you really do not want to do this!” He begs. There’s a hint of something in his voice, however. Something amused.

Smoke begins to waft out of the tent. Normally that would make Jaskier smile. It means Yen’s started the fire for whatever breakfast Geralt brings back for them. Even now, he fights back a grin. He sees it for what it is. A taunt.

“Masks!” Sword Man calls out as the smoke begins to thicken. He’s met with a firm “Copy!”.

Jaskier lets out a laugh. “Fine, have it your way.” He grins. He could be dramatic too. “Masks!” 

**_“Copy.”_ **

The smoke wooshes out of the tent, throwing Rope Man several feet into the air before disappearing all at once, leaving him to fall to the ground with a disgusting group of cracks. 

When Jaskier turns back around, Sword Man’s head is already separated from his body with Geralt’s sword dripping with blood. 

“Did you really have to wait until they punched me? I’m going to have bruises, Geralt, bruises!” He’s already complaining, despite having almost died. 

“I could leave you tied up.” Geralt threatens. It falls flat when he kisses the smirk of Jaskier’s face anyway.

“Gross,” Ciri deadpans, now standing outside the tent and peaking from behind Yen’s dress at the mess their campsite has become. “You’re both gross.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I think he looks devourable all tied up with strings, don’t you, Geralt?” Yen teases just to watch Cirilla fake gag and Jaskier’s face turn bright red. Geralt merely rolls his eyes.

“Seriously though, will someone please untie me? It’s starting to chafe.”


	6. The Sweetest of Berries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is immune to poison, meaning that he can eat the sweetest poison berries known to man. And he's not sharing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: None :D

At Kaer Morhen, they were taught basic wilderness survival. These guys were heading into a world that’s going to hate them for who they are, no matter who they _really_ are, so they needed to know how to rough it.

Little Geralt, still with brown hair and brown eyes and always curious with too many questions but hardened just enough by what he’s had to endure so far, studied a book about what he can and can’t eat, when different animals are in season, how to skin a deer vs a rabbit vs a fish.

Their first test is to survive in the valley surrounding the fortress for 24 hours. Geralt, at the ripe old age of 12, found the sweetest tasting purple berries he’d ever eaten. 

They also happened to be extremely poisonous, and Vesemir ended up sitting at his bedside for a fortnight watching as he miraculously survived. 

Geralt learned his lesson, but those were still the sweetest berries he’d ever tasted. 

After everything is over with, after there are three deadly witchers left standing in the place ten lost boys once stood, Geralt goes back to the berries.

They’re just as sweet as he remembers. His eyes and veins darken a little more with every berry he tosses into his mouth as he rides Roach, the first Roach, down the mountainside. But he doesn’t get sick. 

Decades later, the ground is wet with freshly melted snow as winter fades into spring. He knows Jaskier is waiting for him in Daevon, and by now he’s memorized where the berries are, so he is quick about filling his pouch. 

Three days ride later, he meets his bard at the edge of Daevon with a kiss. If he was a more poetic man, he’d say something about Jaskier being sweeter than the berries. He’s not, though, so he settles for a simple “Hello, Jaskier.” 

“Hello, Jaskier?” The bard parrots back. “Three months with no contact outside of letters and all I get is ‘hello, Jaskier’. You never change, do you?” Even as he gripes, he’s wrapping himself around Geralt like a snake. Geralt’s no better, leaning in close to inhale the scent he missed so much.

“My sincerest apologies.” The witcher replies, insincerely. 

“Oh, shut up and kiss me again, you brute.” 

That night, they make camp in the woods of Kaedwen. They’ve both eaten their fair share of stew and are relaxing on opposite sides of the camp. Geralt stands from where he’s been sharpening his silver sword, pulls the pouch of berries off of his belt, and calmly pops one in his mouth. 

“Fuck, _Geralt!_ ” 

In an instant, he’s getting smacked upside the head by 5′9″ of overprotective bard. 

“Spit that out, you oaf! Do they not teach you survival skills in that big fortress of yours? Maybe you should have spent your winter on refresher lessons!” Jaskier is screeching, waving his arms about as Geralt regains his breath after nearly choking. 

“Jaskier.” 

“Honestly, you’d think with how long you’ve been doing this ‘one with nature’ lifestyle you’d know what is and isn’t safe to eat-” 

“ _Jaskier_.” 

“-did you survive this long, Geralt, really? People say I’m the idiot in this relationship, little did they know- _Oh!_ ” He cuts himself with a yelp as Geralt tugs him down into his lap. His golden eyes are narrowed, lips curled into a snarl. 

“If you would let me speak,” He growls out. “You’d remember that don’t get affected by normal poison, _idiot_.” 

Jaskier blinks. “Oh.” 

“Now can I enjoy my fruit in peace or are you going to smack me again?” 

“You can enjoy your fruit, my dear witcher.” 

“Hmm.” 

“Though I’ve always wondered…”

“Hmm?” 

“How do they taste?” 

“Sweet.” 

“Oh, excellent descriptor, Geralt. Should honestly write that down, add it somewhere into my next composition. ‘Berries taste sweet.’ Who would have known?” 

“You taste sweeter than the berries.” Geralt deadpans, tucking Jaskier’s head under his chin as he eats another. He doesn’t need to see him to know Jaskier flushes bright red in happiness at the compliment. 

They rest in a calm quiet for a few moments, the only sounds being the crackling fire and Roach’s occasional shifting. Geralt can practically feel Jaskier thinking though and lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“You’re not trying the berries.”

“But _Geralt_!” 


	7. Do It Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier calls Geralt's bluff with a bluff of his own.  
> (Ignoring timeline, Jaskier is the reincarnation of Renfri in this AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: PTSD related panic attack, threat of suicide

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”

Jaskier stares at the witcher’s back as a surge of anger runs through him. Geralt was hurting. Geralt was frustrated. Geralt was stressed. That gives him absolutely no fucking right to talk to him like that, after everything he’s done for him. After everything he’s gone through with him.

The bard stomps over to Geralt, pulling the dagger out of his boot. The witcher growls when he stands in front of him but Jaskier is undeterred. He holds the dagger out, handle facing Geralt and sees the flash of confusion.

“Kill me then.” He demands, evenly. Geralt’s eyes widen.

“ _What?_ ” He barks back.

“Destiny can’t do all the work for you, Geralt, sometimes you have to work for your blessings. You want me off your hands?” Jaskier adjusts his stance, a dark and bitter smile on his face. “Do it your _fucking_ self.”

“Jaskier, I’m not going to-”

As quick as a flash, he twirls the dagger around so the handle was in his hand and holds it to his own neck. Something wild and feral is in his eyes. “I mean, if you’re so insistent, I suppose I can do it myself.” It’s almost casually when he says it.

In Geralt’s mind, he sees flashes of someone else. Someone long gone. He sees his own hand clutching her wrist. Sees the blood begin to well up on her neck. Feels the weight of her in his arms as he dipped her down like a dance. His breath gets shorter, beginning to panic at the thought of history repeating itself. His hands twitch, wanting to rip the blade away but terrified.

“Jaskier, what are you _doing_ ,” He means to demand, but it comes out like a plead.

“Calling your bluff, Geralt of Rivia.” The blade still hasn’t moved. In fact, Jaskier presses it down just that much more. “You want your blessing?”

“No!” Geralt yells, arm shooting out but stopping short when Jaskier steps backward. “Fuck! No. No, I don’t want my fucking blessing! I’m sorry for what I said. Now will you _please_ put the fucking dagger down?!”

There’s a moment where the only sound is Geralt’s heaving breathing.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say in one go,” Jaskier relents, opening his hand and letting the dagger fall to the ground. “I’d give a lovely linter to know the thoughts going on in your head, Geralt.” He says, but it’s not his voice and the witcher _aches._

“I’m terrified,” He admits, voice thick, before grabbing Jaskier and tugging him into his arms to pull himself out of the past.

“I’m not,” Jaskier replies over his shoulder. “You’ll never be rid of me, Geralt. Not like that.”

Geralt doesn’t reply, just holds Jaskier tighter as they sink to the ground.

..

Hours later, when they’ve made camp, he turns to the bard and asks “Where did you learn that idiom?”

Jaskier just smiles, something secret in his eyes. “My mother used to say it to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcome! I take requests on my tumblr [geralthastwohands](https://geralthastwohands.tumblr.com) and all of these fics are posted there first!!


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